Like building new structures or moving large loads of lumber, furniture, or the like. I remember when I was a kid, everyone on our street sat outside to watch the trucks go back and forth down our road as they fixed a house that had been damaged by a rogue storm. It happens so infrequently that it’s like watching a parade.
We get around by bikes or electric golf carts and the like. There are trailers and shit for everything, too. Mostly, everyone walks, though.
I turn the page and fold it so we can see the next mini article.
“Sammi Samuallson’s cat has escaped again. Please keep your eyes out for Fluffy. Fluffy enjoys a nice warm bowl of milk or some flaky fish. Don’t chase her (it’s her favorite game and you won’t catch her). Call Sammi when found.”
“I don’t understand why Sammi doesn’t just invest in an outdoor cage or something. Clearly Fluffy needs some air,” Cash says.
“I bet Sammi has a secret life. She probably has a second home and is named Cloudy or some shit.”
He laughs.
“Oh, this part is my favorite. King Arthur’s Camelot.” I skim the short section before reading it out loud.
King Arthur’s Camelot is a small column of rewritten King Arthur adventures with a gay twist. Every week is about a hundred words, just a tiny snippet of the next installment. Because the newsletters are for all ages, it’s never spicy. There are some steamy kisses from time to time, but those sections are noted with a little pepper so parents can determine if their kid can read it or not.
It doesn’t just follow King Arthur, but all his knights and their affairs. Not going to lie, it’s addicting. And it’s also frustrating that there are only tiny freaking snippets and then we need to wait an entire week for another little snippet.
The column has been going for a decade now and residents are still obsessed. It’s also written by an anonymous person under the pen name LIHW.
“When Morgana returned to Avalon, she was furious to see what King Arthur had done to her home. The longer she moved around her once grand and envied homestead, the more furiousshe became. It was time to punish King Arthur. To do so, she must beguile Merlin first, lest he get in the way. How to. How to.
“The answer came to her in the form of a beautiful damsel, Lady Vivien, for Lady Vivien was a shapeshifter and could become that of which a heart most desires. Morgana knew what Merlin most desired. It wasn’t a pretty lady, but a beast to tame him.
“The two began to plot in secret right under the noses of the Round Table.”
“Ugh,” Cash complains. “Can’t we bump it up to two hundred words a week?”
“Do you ever think that maybe LIHW has the entire thing written already? Think about it—let’s say this story is, what, 100,000 words in length. We get 100 words a week. Fifty-two weeks in a year. That’s almost two hundred years that this story could go on.” He tilts his head. “Did I math that correctly?”
I laugh. “No idea. But I hate that idea. First of all, all the sexy bits are left up to the imagination. So that’s a four-hundred-ish page book with only my feeble imaginings filling in the sexy times. And also, there are like a million characters! I want to see it all. I want to read it in one continuous stream when the story is all done. The author isn’t even going to live long enough to see the whole of his creation shared with Kala!”
Cash huffs. “Maybe we need an investigation to figure out who this mystery person is. Then we can go to the source and see if they have sexy scenes. And also if they’ll let us read it in whole.”
“Do you really think it’s all written, though? Maybe they write a hundred words a week and that’s it.”
“Huh.”
I hand Cash another cookie as I suck the frosting off the balls of the one in my hand. I’ve been on a sugar cookie kick these lastfew weeks. Ever since the day I baked them at Laiken’s house over two weeks ago.
My stomach flips when I think about it. Because thinking about the way he watched my ass and then kissed me like a starving man days later at the bar before telling me ‘We can’t do this’ has me all twisted inside.
He kissed me. He actually kissed me. I think that proves he’s as attracted to me as I am to him. He. Kissed.Me!
But then he up and ruined it by practically running away. Who does that?
I’m ignoring the reason why, of course. I know why he said we can’t do that again. My father. His best friend for thirty years. I get it.
That doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck, though.
“Miss Portia’s class is looking for cardboard boxes and egg cartons. If you have any, please drop them off at the school whenever you’re able,” Cash reads. There’s a picture of a small group of five- and six-year-olds.
“Mr. Betty would appreciate it if everyone would stop spreading rumors about Mr. Tilly and Mr. Gray. He says that we’re not teenagers and that we, as adult residents, should have better things to do than advertise a supposed affair.”
“Mr. Betty is either jealous that he’s not the one fucking one of them or he has something to hide as well,” Cash comments. “Or else, why would you put that in the newsletter?”
“Since he’s just addressing the adults of Kala, everyone under eighteen is allowed to gossip about it. He really should work on being more inclusive.”
